


Atlantean Delicacy

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney and John realize too late that they should seize opportunities while they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlantean Delicacy

   

The wraith scared Rodney, and knowing one of them resided only a transporter and a short walk away gave him shivers running up and down his spine, ruining any chance of a good night's sleep--not that he'd had many of those since stepping through the Stargate into the Pegasus galaxy. Having faced the wraith on too many occasions already, and having seen the results of their hungry attacks on humans, Rodney had no inclination to study the one they had captured up close. For once, he preferred to leave that honor to voodoo scientists like Carson, content to monitor their prisoner from afar.

Strangely, Sheppard had not remarked at all on his lack of interest and Rodney had half-expected a little teasing from the Major. He had even worked out a few possible scathing comments to throw back should the occasion arise. Instead, Sheppard seemed to keep talk about this wraith to a bare minimum while in Rodney's presence, only mentioning the lack of progress during each morning's briefing. Of course, it was entirely possible that their wraith prisoner had no information to impart. Perhaps he had not been awake that long, or held too lowly a position to know the current strength and position of the wraith hive ships.

Yet, although the wraith would not reveal any strategic information to Sheppard, he was surprisingly candid on other subjects, and most especially regarding his feeding habits, boasting about the thousands he had fed upon over the millennia. He told Sheppard how many had been human and how many Atlantean, seeming especially fond and nostalgic for his Atlantean prey. The twist of his mouth and narrowing of those cat-like eyes made Rodney wonder if the Wraith might even consider the Atlanteans a delicacy though, most likely, he was simply trying to irritate his captors, and Sheppard in particular.

Imagining the Atlanteans as a delicacy was a strange thought that refused to budge, and it triggered others. Once Rodney had those in his head, he knew he had to investigate to see where they led him.

With a frown, Rodney linked his laptop to the main computer and pulled up the footage taken of the wraith as he waited with outward calm within the holding cell. Readings taken from other small apparatus scattered about the area seemed unreliable. On reflection, Rodney considered that they might not be functioning efficiently because of the wraith's ability to close down most of his body functions at will, though he did not try to enter full hibernation while in captivity. However, detecting life signs, breathing, and chemical markers was a little difficult when the machine thought its subject was dead.

Rodney decided to ignore the readings from the various machines and focus solely on the monitor feed. He fast forwarded through all the uninteresting hours where Steve, as Sheppard had named him, stood or sat in silence, with no company apart from the two ever-present guards set by Bates.

The first week of footage revealed nothing extraordinary until the day Beckett stepped into the area.

Although the wraith stood as still as a statue, not even turning his head to check out his visitor, Rodney observed enough on the monitors to see a subliminal interest in Beckett when he had ignored most others. Once he knew what to look for, Rodney went back through the data and realized that, whenever anyone with the ATA gene stepped into the holding area, Steve would almost visibly salivate. His body would tense like a predator coiled ready to strike, and his eyes would narrow and take on a deeper intensity, focusing intently on this descendant of the Ancients as soon as he or she came into his view. His nostrils would flare as if scenting the most exquisite meal and, if he had been human, Rodney was certain Steve would have been licking the drool from his pale lips.

With his curiosity piqued, Rodney pulled up the footage for when Stackhouse stood on guard duty that one and only time, smiling when he saw Steve's barely concealed discomfort through the many hours. Then, on impulse, he carefully observed one of Sheppard's visits, knowing the Major had the strongest natural command of the gene.

Rodney grinned as he turned up the audio to listen to the exchange, realizing that what he had believed to be a battle of wills between Steve and Sheppard was fueled by a far darker desire than freedom. Steve wanted Sheppard, his hand unconsciously clenching and relaxing as if desperate to reach out and snatch the life force from the Major.

In contrast, Steve gave little or no reaction to the presence of Ford or Bates, or any ordinary human. Only then did Rodney notice that the data for the third set of people that made up Atlantis was missing. A check through the personnel file confirmed what Rodney already suspected, that only humans and those with a natural occurrence of the gene had visited Steve up until now. Silently, Rodney wondered how Steve would react to someone with a modified version of the gene. Someone like him. Would he sense a difference between a natural and a modified human?

There seemed to be only one way to find out.

Armed with a PDA, Rodney took the transporter down to the cell and stepped inside the room, ignoring the confusion of the two guards who seemed a little disconcerted by his unexpected arrival. He doubted they had orders to prevent the Chief Scientist on Atlantis from visiting their prisoner but his arrival had caused a stir nonetheless. Too intent upon watching the wraith's reaction, he barely noticed one of the guards speaking into his headset radio.

Rodney sensed the interest Steve had in him immediately, and the reaction was far stronger than even Rodney had anticipated. The wraith waited until Rodney stood before him, feigning disinterest until they made eye contact. Then he grinned, revealing the razor edged teeth that seemed so out of place on a creature that fed through its hand. Steve dipped his head and breathed in deep, nostrils flaring, as if capturing Rodney's scent. His hideous grin widened and Rodney had his answer as to whether Steve cared if his ATA gene was natural or not, much to Rodney's discomfort.

Thoughts of feeding combined with that disconcerting thought of being eyed like he was the main course at a feast, sent Rodney's hands fumbling into his pocket to withdraw a power bar. He tore into the wrapper and took a bite, enjoying the comfort without realizing the psychological effect this would have on the starving wraith.

The smile dropped from Steve's face.

"Atlantean," he whispered harshly. "Take pleasure in your food for I shall enjoy feeding upon you when the others arrive. This city will become an extension of our feeding ground, and then we will cross to your galaxy and--"

Unsurprisingly, Rodney bored of this particular diatribe very quickly, having heard it several times already through the monitor feed during Steve's battle of wills with Sheppard. His fear of Steve dissolved along with his patience; he interrupted before Steve could launch into a full bad-guy rant.

"Yes, yes. And if I want to talk to a walking cliché then I'll go see Major Sheppard."

He earned an angry hiss from Steve but the unexpected arrival of John Sheppard ended any further contact, though Rodney hoped the Major had not overheard his comment. Turning to discredit the unnecessary dramatics from their prisoner, Rodney could only give a squeak of shock as Sheppard grabbed hold of his arm in a bruising grip and, forcibly, propelled him outside into the corridor beyond the holding area. Sheppard's face was darkened with anger, his light hazel eyes boring into Rodney's, leaving Rodney totally confused by his overreaction...unless he had heard that comment.

But really, Rodney thought, it had not warranted a physical attack.

"What the hell were you doing in there, McKay?" Sheppard snarled.

"I would think that was perfectly obvious even to a man of limit--"

"Beckett needs to be in there, so do I. You don't."

It took but a moment for Rodney to realize that Sheppard had named only those possessing the ATA gene so he must have already observed Steve's reaction to 'Atlanteans'. Perhaps he had sensed the excitement in his prisoner, or an increase in Steve's hunger whenever he or Beckett were close. Knowing Sheppard had withheld this information, or deemed it too unimportant to mention before now, made Rodney even more adamant that he should be making his own observations. He raised his chin in defiance, shaking off Sheppard's hand that still gripped his arm painfully.

"As Chief Scientist, I need to be in there to ob--"

"No you don't. And what's more, McKay, I don't want you in there. I don't want you anywhere near him. Is that clear?"

"What you *want*, Major, is irrelevant. I have to figure out a way to stop the wraith so studying a live one--"

"There's a perfectly good set of monitors sending a live feed direct to your lab, *Doctor*. You don't need to be here in person. Others can make the physical observations."

"No. No they can't."

Although they continued to argue in the corridor outside, Rodney knew he would win eventually. Sheppard could not keep him away without gaining Weir's support, and Elizabeth was unlikely to deny Rodney the chance to observe a live wraith if he made the request. What Rodney could not understand was why Sheppard was so dead set against him being in the same room as Steve. However, there was a lot that Rodney did not understand about the Major and he simply added this to that puzzle.

"Fine. You want to be in there, being eyed up like the main dish on today's menu, then go ahead...but you ask me or Bates first."

"Why?"

"Because I am in command of the military on Atlantis, and Bates is in charge of security."

"And, unless I am mistaken, I am the chief scientist on this expedition who does not need to answer to the military--"

Sheppard's voice dropped to low and menacing. "While I'm in charge of this prisoner, you will do as I say or I'll figure out a way to make sure you have no access at all...to *anything*."

Rodney glared at Sheppard but Sheppard glared right back at him until he was forced to look away. Rodney was almost certain it was a bluff but that tiny shadow of doubt crept in and sank its teeth into Rodney's psyche. However, as he had attained what he wanted--access to the wraith--Rodney decided to be magnanimous and let Sheppard believe he had won this round.

**--**

Three days passed and Rodney noticed that whenever he made a request to collect more data on Steve, he found Sheppard either waiting in the holding area or arriving almost on his heels. Invariably, Bates would also be there, deliberately delaying Rodney until Sheppard arrived, if necessary. Bates would stand by the door with his coldest look plastered on his otherwise handsome face, glaring across the room at Steve, while his trigger finger twitched on the P90 he carried. At least, Rodney hoped it was Steve that warranted the uncompromising soldier's attention.

At first, Rodney felt comforted by the presence of Sheppard and Bates until he realized that their presence seemed to intimidate the wraith. Also, he noticed that neither Sheppard nor Bates made any particular effort to be present when other scientists visited their dangerous prisoner. With his investigation gaining little in the way of results, Rodney came to a decision. Just this once he would turn up without making a request first, arrogantly assuming he could ride out Sheppard's wrath. After all, Beckett came and went as he pleased, and so did Kavanagh as he sought to gain technical information from their prisoner, though without any luck...and if anyone needed watching, it was that incompetent fool, thought Rodney.

As Rodney made his way along the corridor, he could not resist a self-satisfied smile as he thought of Kavanagh.

Beckett had given all the lead scientists the gene therapy but it had worked on only 48 percent of them. Unfortunately, Zelenka was among those where it did not take but, then, so was Kavanagh and, as unhappy as he felt for Zelenka, knowing Kavanagh was still only human made Rodney very happy indeed. To some, that seemed a little petty or spiteful but, in the days preceding his inclusion in the first trials of Beckett's therapy, Kavanagh had crowed loud and long that, with the gene, he would finally prove his superiority over Rodney. Of course, the fact that it had not worked on Kavanagh meant the man could continue to justify his lack of results in his field by blaming it on the lack of the ATA gene to activate the necessary equipment. Though, when Rodney remarked sarcastically that his laptop was not an Ancient device and, therefore, its activation was simply a matter of pressing a button, Kavanagh had gone into a mighty snit that lasted for days.

Rodney did not regret a single word, even though Kavanagh's lackeys had made it clear that Rodney ought to apologize for impugning a fellow scientist.

"When the wraith convert to Hare Krishna and don saffron robes," he murmured, giving a crooked smile at the thought of the wraith dancing and singing outside Toronto airport.

The door to the holding cell stood just ahead of him and Rodney paused mid-step, having second thoughts about his current plan of action. The guilty feeling lasted but a second before he pushed on and commanded the door open using the gene. The two guards snapped to attention and then did a double take when no one followed Rodney into the area.

"Ah, Doctor? Are you supposed to be here?"

"If I wasn't supposed to be here then I wouldn't be here," Rodney snapped back, justifying his little white lie as a necessary evil in the path to progress but he could see the second guard talking on his headset. Though whether he was trying to contact Sheppard or Bates would be anyone's guess, unless that someone happened to know that a certain Major was incommunicado.

Rodney gave a secret smile because he had deliberately chosen this time to enter Steve's holding area knowing Sheppard was at a training session with Teyla. Even if the Major had remembered to take his radio headset and even if he extricated himself immediately, it would take him at least fifteen minutes to shower, change, and then race to the holding area. Rodney had based his calculations on Sheppard's reaction time to Elizabeth's demands for his presence in the past. He planned to use those fifteen minutes to great effect, perhaps starting up a dialogue with Steve that would garner results where Sheppard had failed.

As Rodney made his way round the perimeter of the cell until he was facing Steve, his smile tightened, knowing from the clenching of the wraith's hands that Steve had sensed him immediately upon entering. After weeks awake but without food, Steve could no longer hide his reactions so easily, especially to Rodney's observant eyes. Rodney had to admit this was the longest he had been with the wraith without Sheppard's intimidating presence at his shoulder, and that filled him with strange unease. Slight movement close to the door made Rodney check that way and he saw a slightly red-faced Sgt. Bates step into the holding area with a gun readied. Instantly, Bates was on his headset but, by the tight set of his lips, whatever response he gained had not been good.

Bates glared at Rodney and this only made Rodney angrier, wondering why Sheppard did not trust him to be alone with the wraith. The force field was secure and there were two guards posted in the room, and Rodney was not stupid enough to tamper with either security measures...not even in the name of science.

"Doctor McKay."

Rodney raised both eyebrows as Steve addressed him by name for the first time but the chilling smile and predatory gleam in the catlike eyes sent a shiver down his spine. The wraith spoke softly, whispering his threats.

"When the others come for me, I will make you mine. I shall savor your sweet taste, sipping from you like one of your fine wines. I will drain you slowly, taking your life force...and I will make *him* watch." As he spoke, Steve took several steps forward, stalking towards Rodney and, instinctively, Rodney took several steps back, intimidated despite the heavy shielding separating him from the wraith. Steve seemed to take pleasure from Rodney's sudden discomfort, smiling widely. "I shall enjoy seeing him beg to be the one I feast upon, offering himself so I would spare you a lingering death...and when I have drained his intended mate then I shall feast upon his broken spirit."

Steve's head whipped round and he hissed in triumph as Sheppard strode into the holding area.

His spiked hair was damp with perspiration, his sweat-stained clothes clinging to his lean body with dark patches spreading out from beneath his armpits and soaking through the material plastered to his heaving chest. The fresh scent of male sweat filled the area, triggering an all-too familiar reaction in Rodney, one he fought to control with great difficulty. His senses reeled, his stomach lurching as blood raced both southwards to his groin and northwards to flush his face with embarrassment.

Rodney had not counted on Sheppard breaking off his sparring match with Teyla and rushing here without even stopping to shower. With Bates standing guard, holding a gun trained on Steve at all times, this headlong rush, all sweaty and out of breath, seemed unnecessarily dramatic, even for Sheppard.

Steve sniffed deeply, drawing in Sheppard's musky scent. "I have yet to scent him on you, McKay, but it is but a matter of time."

Rodney frowned at this second strange comment.

"Get out, McKay," Sheppard ground out between clenched teeth and Rodney had no time even to argue as, with a nod of Sheppard's head in Bates' direction, the sergeant strode over and made it perfectly clear that he would brook no argument.

"Doctor McKay."

Rodney blew out a breath in frustration, deciding that enough was enough but, once more, he found himself heading for the door under duress as Bates gave him a hard shove in that direction. Rodney looked back as Steve stayed focused on Sheppard, speaking in that sibilant whisper.

"So beautiful, is he not, Major Sheppard. So desirable to us both, though for different reasons..."

The door closed and Rodney spun on his heel, turning to face Bates. He ignored the hard expression.

"What was that all about?"

"Doctor McKay?"

Rodney turned quickly as he heard Teyla's voice, having not noticed her standing in the corridor. Her coffee-colored skin gleamed with a sheen of perspiration but, otherwise, she seemed untaxed by her training session with Sheppard followed by a run through Atlantis, hard on his heels. Too angry to care that she might consider his lack of greeting rude, Rodney turned back to Bates.

"Well?"

"Don't ask, don't tell," he ground out, his lips tightening, and Rodney knew he would gain no more from the sergeant but it did not stop him from asking.

"What?" Bates had made even less sense than usual but, before he could question further, Sheppard stepped out of the holding area, his mouth was a thin line of anger. He gave Rodney a frosty stare, raising one eyebrow that warned Rodney he had overstepped some imaginary boundary and would be taken to task for today, though Rodney still had no true idea of what the hell had happened.

"I suggest you go back to your lab, Doctor..." his eyes narrowed, "...and get used to it because you're not going to see much of anything else."

Sheppard strode off without a backward glance and a check towards Bates proved to Rodney that he would find no sympathy and no explanation there. Rodney straightened up and walked away stiffly, barely glancing into Teyla's bewildered face as he passed.

**--**

Rodney had no idea how Sheppard managed to get him grounded but he could not persuade Elizabeth to let him accompany Carson back and forth to Hoff even though he had been part of the initial first contact team. Instead, the next few days past slowly as he paced about his lab, finding the sloppy work of his subordinates even more of an annoyance than usual. He hated this separation from 'his team', and he had started to wonder if he was even on Sheppard's team anymore. Carson kept both Teyla and Ford occupied running errands back and forth between Atlantis and Hoff so they had little time to spare for him and even less to explain exactly what was going on. Yet, he did manage to catch Teyla in the commissary late one night but she had stared at him like he was a complete idiot who deserved to feel the bite of Sheppard's anger, shaking her head and sighing audibly.

Perhaps he was an idiot, because he certainly couldn't understand why Sheppard had overreacted like this.

Rodney slumped back in his seat in total exasperation before turning to stare around the laboratory. He frowned as everyone suddenly looked very busy, with eyes glued to their consoles and experiments. He perked up when Jorgeson cursed softly under his breath, a sound that would not have carried under normal circumstances but the lab seemed extraordinarily quiet over these past few days despite the number of technicians present. Dark eyes flicked towards him in abject horror but, before he could rise to investigate, Zelenka was there, turning to give him a thumbs up and a big smile to say all was 'okay'.

'That smile seems a little strained', he thought but then his laptop pinged to warn him the latest simulation had finished processing, calling his attention back to his own tasks.

There were more than enough Ancient artifacts turning up in the city to keep him occupied, probably for the rest of his natural life. However, he could not keep his mind on track, finding it constantly drifting back to the holding cell and the indecipherable rantings and ravings of a starving wraith. It did not help that another memory also assaulted him, the sight and scent of Sheppard's lean, sweat-soaked figure pounding into the area, with that intense look directed straight at him. Worse, he missed it, almost hungered for it but Sheppard could barely stand to stay in the same room with him for more than a few minutes at a time since then.

He tried not to but, each day, he spent a little time going back over data collected through the live feed, trying to make sense of it. Steve remained obstinately still and silent for the most part, though the contrast when Sheppard was present was impossible to miss. Every time he sensed Sheppard's approach, his frame would come alive, sending the life sign monitors wild. By the time Sheppard left, Steve would be pacing about his cell almost frantically, his hands clenched and body taut with an almost overwhelming need to feed...on Sheppard.

If Carson had not been so busy working with the Hoffans, Rodney would have directed his attention to this but he decided he would mention his theories at the next meeting instead.

Two days later, Steve was dead.

Because of John Sheppard's insistence on Rodney being left off the team until he had 'learned some discipline', Rodney's part in the research had been minimal, providing the equipment Carson required rather than taking a full role in the laboratory process. Rodney could not precisely object. After all, this was Carson's area of expertise, not his. However, he did review the main experiment performed upon Steve while on Hoff, openly celebrating the wraith's inability to feed as Steve drew back from his intended meal in consternation.

At the time it had seemed like the breakthrough the whole galaxy had been waiting for, with only Carson providing the voice of reason as he cautioned against rushing into production without full trials.

In those final hours of his life, fear entered the wraith's eyes for the first time. The megalomaniac boasting no longer falling from its lips with such conviction yet Steve continued to taunt Sheppard with words that seemed meaningless to Rodney. Empty threats were aimed at all of them, filled with obscure references, and one of the last of those played over and over in Rodney's head as he tried to decipher its meaning but failed...

"You would deny yourself to save your mate but it will make our pleasure all the sweeter. We will feast upon--"

"Is this the royal 'we' because, I hate to disappoint you but, *you* won't be feasting on anyone...ever," drawled Sheppard, gaining a weak hiss of frustration...

Mate? Intended mate? Don't ask, don't tell?

Rodney felt his stomach flip-flop as a possible answer to the puzzling questions made itself known. Could Steve actually believe that he and Sheppard were...together? Or rather, were meant to be together. The merest thought of having John Sheppard in his arms, of feeling those insolent lips pressed against his, sucking and biting and licking as they swallowed each other's moans of passion sent Rodney's heart racing.

He felt a moment of dizziness as the heat rose in his face while the rest of his blood took a detour south. So many times he had imagined this scenario, imagined the soft lips worshiping his flesh even as his own fingers carded through the curls of dark hair matting the well-defined chest. John would gasp as a short fingernail scraped over a hardened nipple, his hands tightening on Rodney's ass, dragging their hips closer. Hard erections would bump and grind together, slowly moving to an exquisite climax as the heat of their release flooded between their close-pressed bellies.

He moaned softly, dropping his head forward a fraction before recalling exactly where he was. Rodney sat up straight and glanced around the laboratory but no one was paying him any attention. If anything, they were studiously ignoring him.

Was it possible though?

No, he thought with sudden conviction. It was impossible. 'Intended mate' and 'don't ask, don't tell' could apply equally to Elizabeth due to the chain of command problem. Okay...perhaps not the 'he' part but for all anyone knew, the wraith might use 'he' to describe any human. After all, why should they care if dinner was once male or female? Probably still tasted the same.

"Like chicken," he murmured. "Doesn't everything taste like chicken?"

Another thought struck him. Maybe the 'he' in question was Bates?

Rodney felt his stomach lurch in horror, frowning as he tried to recall any instances where Sheppard and Bates had shown any affection towards one another. Nope. Nothing came to mind but then, it could easily be feigned indifference to cover up the desire they held for one another...unless all the desire was one-sided, with Sheppard lusting after Bates and Bates respecting his superior enough to say nothing.

Yes...that could be it, he thought before promptly disagreeing with himself.

"No. Not Bates", he murmured aloud, having sized up all the evidence and seen no spark between the two.

Had to be Elizabeth for it could not possibly be *him*. That was just wishful thinking. After all, why would Sheppard be interested in someone who riled him with every utterance, and with every gesture? Someone who argued against his decisions and betrayed his trust for the selfish pursuit of science. Someone he could not trust to be left alone with his prisoner unsupervised for even a minute.

When he thought back through the few weeks of footage, Elizabeth had never been left alone with Steve either or Sheppard had hovered by the door when not taking a direct role in the proceedings. Elizabeth had tried to speak to the wraith on many occasions but even her incredible negotiating skills had not made a single dent in Steve's total belief in his superiority as a species. As far as Steve was concerned, humans only existed to feed the wraith and, being an ordinary human, he barely even registered her presence unless Sheppard made some dry comment of showing a little respect.

Still, Steve might have seen Elizabeth as Sheppard's intended mate and decided to play mind games with the Major by insinuating differently. Perhaps that was why Sheppard did not want him there alone. He did not want Rodney caught up in those games.

Yes...that had to be it. There could be no other explanation. He sighed as the little bud of hope within him shriveled up and died. Elizabeth chose that moment to contact him via the small radio headset he was obliged to wear at all times.

"Rodney! Perna's sick."

Her words shocked him out of his maudlin state. "Carson?"

"He's with her."

"I should go--"

"No. I want you to stay on Atlantis."

"Look, if this has something to do with Major Sheppa--"

"No. This is my decision. I want you to carry on with the research you're doing."

"But--"

"I haven't got time to discuss this right now, Rodney. I just felt you needed to know."

"I don't have that many friends, Elizabeth."

He heard her sigh, almost feeling guilty for playing the friendship card but it was true. He did not have that many friends in either galaxy, and Carson numbered among the very few.

"Okay...get suited up and meet with your team in the gate room in fifteen--"

"I'll be there in ten."

**--**

When he thought of Steve's death, Rodney's only regret was the effect it had on Carson Beckett. However, he did not believe Carson grieved so much for the wraith as for the pretty Hoffan head scientist, and for all the other Hoffan who died soon after taking the wraith feeding inhibitor treatment that Carson had helped to create.

For the Hoffans, it was a Pyrrhic victory at best but they were willing to pay the ultimate price for their success in some misguided belief that it would end the cycle of destruction wrought upon them by the wraith over the millennia. Yet, as Sheppard pointed out, they would be granted their wish but most likely with the complete annihilation of their race. No one seemed to care once they realized that the treatment did more than simply inhibit the feeding process but that it killed the feeder too.

Rodney could not fathom the willingness of the Hoffan to stand by and see half its population fall sick and die just so the rest would be in a position to strike back at the wraith. Yet, he could not deny that they had come to this decision with barely a ripple of dissent. Only four percent of the population had considered the full impact of this decision and found it unacceptable.

His thoughts turned to the great archives hidden beneath the city. One day, the Atlanteans might return to a world devoid of human life but, at least, they would be able to preserve the memory of this once-great people who were willing to gamble against such impossible odds in the hope of finding peace.

Carson had once told him of the dangers inherent in experimental gene therapy, and this terrible event had driven that lesson home. With a shudder, Rodney realized how easily the Atlantis expedition could have fallen foul of a similar disaster.

What if Carson's experimental ATA gene therapy had caused a fatal reaction in the fifty-two percent who had proved immune to the treatment, overwhelming the body's defense mechanism and causing a catastrophic failure like a fast acting cancer spreading through the body? Or worse, what if it had caused a fatal reaction in the forty-eight percent for which it had worked?

Perhaps, in hindsight, he could understand the Hoffans single-minded pursuit of an answer to their problem. When given the opportunity, he had leaped at the chance to have the ATA gene, harassing Carson until he agreed to test it out on him. In his case, it had worked but the events on Hoff proved that it could have turned out very different. Fortunately, the side effects of the ATA therapy had been little more than a dry mouth and a little nausea for the few days. Though Rodney was glad Carson had only been joking about the irresistible urge to run on a small wheel despite Sheppard's later oh-so-witty remark that he could have used the exercise.

Invariably, thoughts of Sheppard brought him back to his current dilemma.

He thought Sheppard had finally come around but, once they returned from Hoff, the Major disappeared off without even a backward glance. In the four days since, Rodney had seen little of him except for at the morning briefing where he remained cold and aloof, only speaking to Rodney when he had to. Even then, their usual verbal sparring had gained an edge to it that sat heavy in the air, causing discomfort to those around them, with the noticeable exception of Kavanagh who had decided to grasp the opportunity to become Sheppard's new best geek buddy.

Seeing Kavanagh as the recipient of Sheppard's quirky half smiles was almost more than Rodney could bear, especially as the supercilious man took such glee in rubbing Rodney's nose in it. After this morning's briefing, Kavanagh had crept up behind him while he gathered up his paperwork and leaned over, whispering into his ear, "a public apology could still make a difference to your future, McKay."

The implication was clear. Kavanagh fully believed that Sheppard had the power to override any decisions made by Elizabeth in the choice of head scientist, or at least make a great case for that position to be handed over to another. And Kavanagh was going to make certain that he would be the one to take over Rodney's role, making him Rodney's superior in every sense of the word, at least according to Kavanagh.

"Hare Krishna," Rodney had replied, forcing Kavanagh to back up as he stood and walked out without a backward glance, knowing he would be leaving Kavanagh stymied. With luck, the man would spend the next week trying to figure that one out.

**--**

Rodney returned to his lab after a quick detour to the commissary for a decent cup of coffee, quickly immersing himself in the latest gadget picked up by one of the city exploration teams. Hours later, he had made little progress.

With an impatient sigh at his maudlin mindset, Rodney focused back on his monitor again, watching simulations flash across the screen as he tried to decipher the inner workings of the ancient device. His ATA gene had activated it but he still had no clue what the device should do, though he had a feeling Sheppard would have remarked upon its strangely phallic shape had he been there. For all Rodney knew, it *could* be a sex toy, though he was loath to test out that particular theory, especially upon his own delicate flesh.

What he had noticed, though, was the way his ATA ability was continuing to go from strength to strength, yet he doubted that it would ever be as strong as Sheppard's. The man was a natural and would probably have had this artifact singing out all its secrets by now...under Rodney's guidance, of course.

He sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment as the simulation concluded without giving him any new information. In truth, his mind was not fully on the task, distracted by the increased loneliness since he and Sheppard had their falling out. He missed the camaraderie that had started to develop between them as Sheppard dragged him from his lab and forced him to watch terrible movies from the expedition's library archive, though he had to admit that 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' had been so bad that he'd actually had fun watching it--for the most part.

Some how, Sheppard had managed to convince someone to include a full set of classic Star Trek episodes along with a wide range of movies, both modern and old, on the grounds that, if they might never be able to get home then at least they'd have taken a little bit of Earth's culture with them...and that it would be good for morale. General O'Neill seemed to have agreed with him and sent the expedition off with terabytes of additional material, purely for entertainment value.

After their last 'movie night', Sheppard had threatened to make Rodney sit through all the classic Trek episodes with him, wanting to 'educate him' and show him there was more to it than fancy technology. In some perverse way, Rodney had looked forward to it, recalling a previous evening spent seated next to Sheppard, with shoulders and thighs touching on the narrow couch while Teyla and Ford spread out on the other side. He could still feel the heat of John's body through the thin cotton t-shirt and the warm press of a strong hand on his knee whenever John wanted to draw his attention to a particularly 'outstanding' moment in the awful film. Except, that hand had the opposite effect on Rodney as his brain shut out the action on the small screen to focus on the hard pressure and the heat that sent frissons of need traveling straight to his groin. Only the huge bowl of popcorn planted in his lap had covered his embarrassing reaction, though Teyla had given him a very thoughtful look at one point before smiling indulgently.

Now, he wondered if they would ever regain that same level of camaraderie.

A reminder box popped up on his screen with an audible trill and Rodney cursed the interruption even though Carson had arranged the meeting several hours earlier. Life Sciences wanted to discuss with Rodney and Elizabeth, aspects of the experimental gene therapy project. Carson's team were still trying to figure out why the gene manipulation had worked on less than half of their 'test subjects' in the hope that they might be able to adapt the treatment and give the ATA gene to the remaining members of the Atlantis expedition.

For this reason alone, Rodney had agreed to the meeting. In particular, he wanted Zelenka to have the gene, if only to make it easier to work with the Czech scientist. He liked Zelenka and he had come to respect him and his work after the incident with the puddle jumper stuck in the gate. However, in the week since Sheppard stopped dropping by to check in on Rodney's science projects and offer his 'ATA' services, Zelenka had pestered Rodney constantly to activate this or activate that. It was annoying being dragged from his work, and it made Rodney appreciate how generous Sheppard had been with his time.

Why Sheppard had stopped coming by was a mystery to Rodney. They had argued over insignificant things almost from day one without it affecting their working relationship, so the business with Steve the Wraith should have been no different, despite this screeching halt in their growing friendship. Except, Rodney still had a terrible feeling he was missing some vital detail concerning his last encounter with Steve.

A wave of guilt flooded over him as he recalled how he had betrayed Sheppard's trust by going into the holding area without telling either Sheppard or Bates. The guilt fled quickly, replaced by both exasperation and indignation at the way Sheppard had treated him as he reminded himself that Sheppard had placed no such restrictions on Beckett or even on Kavanagh.

A second reminder popped up, giving him the ten minute warning and Rodney drummed his fingers against the desk impatiently. Silently, he wondered if he had time to run one more simulation before he was due in the conference room, calculating the time it would take for him to reach the meeting at a brisk walk.

He decided it would be close but doable. However, by the time he had finished factoring in time delays with the transporter and a brief visit to the commissary to pick up a decent coffee, rather than have more of the mud that passed for coffee in the filter standing close by, the opportunity had passed. He slumped into his seat in resignation before grabbing a PowerBar from his stash and sticking it in his jacket pocket. Quickly, he picked up his laptop, tucking it beneath his arm, and headed out.

Rodney arrived at the meeting slightly late, laden down with a coffee in one hand and the laptop in the other. He stopped on the threshold, eyes widening in surprise at finding John Sheppard seated on a chair beside Elizabeth--and he used the term 'seated' loosely, for the man seemed to lounge rather than sit, with one arm thrown over the back and one leg practically hanging over the arm rest.

He'd gained the impression that Sheppard found these science meetings a complete waste of his precious time.

Probably feels it would be time better spent cleaning his gun or spiking his hair, thought Rodney uncharitably and regretted it immediately. Sheppard was no pretty-boy soldier; there was a clever man behind that handsome visage. Still, his presence was an anomaly for he had needed no artificial means of gaining his ATA gene.

The narrowed eyed gaze he gained from Sheppard warned Rodney not to push his luck by asking why the Major was present, or even speaking to him at all. It seemed even a week was not quite enough to improve Sheppard's temper following the incident in the holding area. So for once, Rodney sat down opposite the Major without a murmur. Not that he had a lot of choice as to where he could sit as, being the last to arrive, all the other seats were already taken. Quickly, he flipped up the lid and booted up the laptop, drumming his fingers lightly on the table top as he tried not to catch Sheppard's eye.

The laptop finished booting and Rodney turned his attention to the meeting.

"So, Carson?"

"So what, Rodney?"

"The gene therapy?"

"Oh! You're ready then?"

Rodney gave Carson a pointed look that had the opposite effect to the one he had intended as both Carson and Sheppard began smirking while Kavanagh visibly preened in the seat on Sheppard's right. No doubt, Kavanagh had arrived early just so he could choose a seat that gave him what he believed was a commanding presence within the room, rather than the one with its back to the multiple opening panels. Rodney hated sitting with his back to the doors. It made him uncomfortable, having spent too many years wondering who was sneaking up to cause mayhem behind his back.

Sheppard's mouth twitched as Rodney glanced over his shoulder in reflex, only then noticing that Sheppard had chosen a seat that gave him the same commanding presence over the room, with his back to a solid wall. Yet, unlike Kavanagh, Sheppard did not look like some sycophant with delusions of grandeur. Carson had chosen to sit on the other side of Elizabeth and, after rustling through a few papers, he leaned forward.

"I finally figured out why the therapy took with less than half our people, and none of the Athosians."

"And?" Rodney asked impatiently, his mind begging to drift back to the simulations he was running in his lab so he could avoid his eyes slipping from Carson's and across to Sheppard.

"It's not the right gene."

Rodney sat up straighter, as did Kavanagh who was the quicker to jump in. "How can it not be the right gene? Dr. Muir and...others," he glared in Rodney's direction, which Rodney found very amusing, "can now activate Ancient technology when they couldn't before."

"Oh! It's not exactly the wrong gene either, but the gene I identified is not the ATA gene. It's an activator for the recessive ATA gene. It's used to switch on the gene already in the DNA strand but lying dormant."

Kavanagh frowned. "And that means...exactly?"

By now Rodney was grinning broadly, humming softly to himself. "That's means I'm an Ancient." He glanced across at Elizabeth. "I have the ATA gene," and received a broad smile from her in response. He turned back to Carson. "It was my mother, wasn't it?"

"Technically, you're not an Ancient. You're a direct descendant of the Ancients."

"But it *was* my mother. It was on the X chromosome."

"I never looked that closely at individ..." Carson sighed at the intent and knowing gaze being leveled at him by Rodney. "Yes, Rodney. It was from your mother's side."

"Thought so," he replied smugly, glancing around the table, his smile faltering slightly. "My father was a Neanderthal."

"So that's where you get your sparkling personality from," quipped Sheppard in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Least we don't have to work out where you get your comedic talent from, Major. You don't seem to have any."

"You wound me, Rodney," he replied, placing a hand over his heart.

"If you two have quite finished," interrupted Elizabeth but Rodney had seen the slightest thaw in Sheppard's eyes.

"What about the actual therapy?" asked Sheppard. "No offense, Doc, but our people aren't going to go Hoffan on us, are they?"

Carson blanched slightly at the reminder and shook his head. "No. I tested this procedure pretty thoroughly before moving onto human trials."

Sheppard's lips quirked upwards, his eyes flicking over to Rodney for a second before looking away, but not before Rodney had seen a measure of relief in those eyes. Suddenly, he knew why Sheppard was at this meeting and the thought that Sheppard might actually still care about him as a friend, warmed Rodney. It gave him hope that they could restore that friendship.

Not much more came out of the meeting except for a need for Life Sciences to continue on a slightly newer line of research, looking at the recessive gene. As the meeting came to an end, Carson's team picked up their notes and left. Elizabeth excused herself quickly and Kavanagh followed right behind her, placing a hand on her arm to draw her attention as they walked away, and leaving just Rodney, Carson and Sheppard in the conference room.

"You think Kavanagh and Dr. Weir?" asked Carson.

"Nah!"

"You must be joking. The man's an imbecile. Elizabeth has far greater taste than that," Rodney exclaimed simultaneously.

Sheppard grinned at him, giving him a first genuine smile for over a week. "So you think you've got a better chance with Elizabeth?"

"No worse than you, Major. Not everyone goes for the flyboy type."

"You sure about that?" Sheppard asked as he turned a megawatt grin on Rodney that set his heart racing.

After that, whatever passed for normality between them returned and the incident with Steve the Wraith was forgotten--for the time being.

**--**

**Several Weeks Later:**

Rodney shook his head in both anger and resignation as Sheppard glared at him before brushing past in disdain. He had not meant for Chaya to overhear him but he did not regret a single word spoken. Why no one else could see that she was hiding some dark secret was beyond him. After all, he was not usually the one for leaps of intuition.

Even his old piano tutor said he had none of the gift of insight that was so necessary for becoming more than technically competent rather than artistic. According to him, to excel at anything a person needed intuition, needed imagination. Sheppard had it, Samantha Carter had it, and even Kavanagh had his moments, though Rodney would never dare mention that to the already insufferable scientist.

Rodney had always seemed like the odd-man out in that respect. He read technical manuals rather than fiction novels because he could not see the vision being created by the author whereas he could picture the inner and outer components of a machine. He only watched Star Trek because of the technology that he could turn from fiction into reality, outwardly deriding but secretly envying Captain Kirk for the fact that he always seemed to get the girl, though Spock did have his admirers too. Yet, since coming to Atlantis, he had started to develop an ability to look at problems from an impossible angle, visualizing foreign ideas and concepts and working through them to a successful conclusion using little more than a 'feeling'. Perhaps he was simply a late developer, with his imagination only beginning to show itself under the tremendous pressure of trying to 'pull rabbits out of his ass' on such a regular basis.

Or maybe it was the gene.

Rodney frowned, wondering if Carson's pioneering therapy had activated more than just the ATA gene. Certainly, it would explain his ever-increasing ability to use the Ancient technology, for some of it worked on more than just the logical level. Some of it required a more imaginative approach for activation and usage. It required intuition. Yet, if that was the case, with John Sheppard being the strongest carrier of the gene, then the Major ought to have intuition by the bucketful. Instead, he had become completely enamored by this woman, unable to see beyond her beautiful exterior to the ugly lies beneath.

Rodney hated people who lied to him. He hated it because so many had done so through his life...'Rodney, you're my best friend, and best friends are supposed to help each other with their homework'. How many times had he heard that one before he finally clued in that he was only a best friend while he provided all the answers? At school and at University, it was the same. Other students hung around him professing friendship when what they wanted was an easy path to a good degree or doctorate and, stupidly, he would sit alone in the library writing their papers while they were off partying.

They rarely invited him to the parties, he thought morosely, and dismissed him in an offhand way if he did turn up. They never even thanked him when they gained the good grade they needed. He had even watched one so-called friend expounding theories of space-time continuum to a very appreciative crowd without ever mentioning that he, Rodney McKay, was the source.

Rodney huffed loudly, the sound echoing in the silent corridor. Once more his thoughts had gone off on a tangent rather than deal with the very personal issue of John Sheppard and Chaya.

 _But it's not all to do with intuition,_ his mind reminded him nastily. He had taken an instant dislike to Chaya, hating the way she looked at Sheppard with that act of wide-eyed naiveté, all the while flirting with the Major like some sexual predator in lamb's clothing.

He retraced his footsteps back to the control room and stared at the biometrics console that Chaya had 'accidentally' activated. Damn, but he was tired, yet no way was he going to sleep while she roamed around the corridors unchecked. Who knew what sabotage she might be planning?

When Elizabeth passed through the control room on her way to her office, early the next morning, Rodney was still wound tight from too little sleep and too much caffeine. He wondered why she even asked if he had slept for it must have been obvious from his rumpled clothing and the extra luggage he was carrying beneath his tired eyes. At least she was receptive to the idea of him joining the meeting and taking covert biometrics on Chaya, though he could tell she did not like it in the least.

Discreet? Rodney knew he could be discreet when the occasion called for it, and this was one time when he did not want to draw any attention to what he was doing. Not that he cared if Chaya found out. His greater concern was how pissed Sheppard would be with him should he discover the true reason for Rodney's presence at the meeting, recalling that long week after Steve the Wraith, and how the loss of Sheppard's company had affected him.

At the time they were little more than colleagues and team members but, since then, he thought they had become friends. Good friends, even, and that meant the stakes were higher as he had so much more to lose, especially as Rodney wanted more than just friendship from John Sheppard. He'd had plenty of opportunity to study his growing attraction to the handsome Major, and any comparison to the occasional bursts of lust that had driven him in the past had shown that this desire was very different. His thing for dumb blondes was just that...a thing...a short, temporary interest that rarely even made it to first base because either he lost interest in them as soon as they revealed the vacuum sitting between their ears, or they slapped him because he revealed how little interest he had in them beyond their obvious physical attributes.

With Sheppard it was vastly different. First, he was no blond and second, despite his attempts to pretend otherwise, the man was not dumb. Beneath that laconic exterior lay a mind that was as sharp as a rapier, one that could match him riposte for riposte when Sheppard so chose, and all of this was wrapped up in a beautiful package.

Rodney had no hang-ups playing for both teams. If anything, he often had better luck with the guys as they did not expect him to strike up a conversation beyond that necessary to determine the when and where of the dirty deed, as his mother used to call it.

Problem was, Rodney did not want John Sheppard as a one-night stand.

Better to remain friends than have one quick fumble in the dark and nothing more, he thought and there lay the crux of the matter. Judging by the way Sheppard had fallen hard for Chaya, even that seemed an unlikely possibility now, and if Sheppard found out that Rodney was secretly monitoring the new love of his life, then Rodney could lose his friendship altogether. However, it was a risk Rodney had to take, if only for his own peace of mind and, most certainly, for the sake of all the others here in Atlantis. They could not afford to deal with another takeover attempt; they could not deal with another people like the Genii. Hell, *he* could not bear to suffer another Kolya, and his arm ached in remembrance of the knife slicing through his flesh as Kolya sought to interrogate him...successfully.

The meeting was set to take place in one hour, giving Rodney plenty of time to eat, take a shower, and set up the equipment in the conference room. When Sheppard arrived with their _guest_ hanging on his arm, Rodney plastered on his best poker face, which was not saying much as he had always been lousy at bluffing, and hoped Sheppard was too caught up in Chaya to notice.

He watched the readings on the laptop, seeing nothing extraordinary in them, only looking up once in annoyance at her veiled barb that told him he would never be welcomed on Proculus with open arms. As if that truly bothered him, he thought, recalling his words to Elizabeth that the people on Proculus were either pathetically pre-technological or brilliantly post-technological...like the Nox. That thought cascaded into several more until a new and strange thought crept into his mind. As if knowing exactly what his intuition had started to scream at him, Chaya addressed him directly for the first time.

"Have your scans shown anything yet, Dr. McKay?"

A single expletive exploded in his head, wiping out all other thoughts as his eyes flicked towards Sheppard in both the shock of discovery and the fear it invoked. For a moment he was speechless. He shut his laptop after admitting he had no tangible proof to say she was anything other than what she claimed to be, hating the way confusion made way for anger in Sheppard's eyes. He had never wanted to hurt John and, certainly, he had never wanted to lose John's friendship and trust, almost grateful that Elizabeth decided to take the brunt of Sheppard's anger.

That elusive thought began to coalesce once more inside his head, taking form as he began to question all he knew of Chaya and her people, hinging on one new piece of data. If Chaya was pre-technological then how did she know he was monitoring her? He stood up in annoyance as Elizabeth tried to placate Chaya.

"Stop apologizing, Elizabeth." As far as Rodney was concerned, none of them had anything to apologize for and, although the thoughts were still only half-formed, he could not help blurting out what was foremost in his mind. "How did she know?"

The force of Sheppard's disgust with him struck like a poisoned arrow, straight to the heart, stunning him for a moment until a wave of anger washed the toxin away and allowed that final insight to give him the answer he sought. A myriad of emotions filled him as he turned to Sheppard.

"She's an Ancient, Major."

Making this proclamation based on a few weird anomalies and his intuition suddenly seemed a little ludicrous. He looked to Chaya for confirmation.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Relief flooded through him when she did not deny it immediately. Chaya had been lying to them all from the outset. There was no goddess Athar, there was only Chaya Sar. Suddenly, he was filled with sadness and disbelief. One of the Ancients had walked among them for almost a full day and had said nothing. She had seen how they were struggling to recognize and activate the Ancient equipment. She had witnessed their fear of an impending wraith attack, not having the necessary power to even raise the shield that had kept the besieged Atlantis safe for so many years before the Ancients abandoned her to the depths of the ocean. She had so much knowledge to offer them, so much power at her fingertips and yet she had pretended to be something else, to be someone else.

Yet, until she spoke again, confirming his leap of intuition as the truth, he had scarcely believed his own words and thoughts. Despair followed when she revealed that her sole purpose in coming to Atlantis was as a means to appease the loneliness of her long existence on Proculus.

Loneliness was something Rodney could identify with, though he had not had to endure as many life times of loneliness as Chaya. Yet, even the merest thought of spending eternity alone, never daring to get too close to any one for fear of suffering the additional pain of grief and loss, filled him with cold dread. He looked away as she left the room, his heart breaking as Sheppard followed without sparing him more than a quick angry glance. He, Elizabeth and Teyla followed them into the gate room and, suddenly, Rodney felt fearful for Chaya as she half-collapsed in Sheppard's arms, concerned that his part in forcing her to reveal her true self had hurt her in some indefinable way. He had never wanted that. Admittedly, he was jealous of the attention she had gained from Sheppard, and he was jealous of the way Sheppard's eyes had glowed with pleasure as he talked with her, and as he touched her, but Rodney had never truly meant her harm.

He felt the fleetest brush of otherworldliness touch his mind as she retook her ascended form and moved towards the activated Stargate, as if she had reached out to him. But whether it was in anger, regret, or even in apology was lost to him.

Perhaps it was all three.

Then she was gone, and Sheppard followed within minutes, willing to face down a fleet of wraith darts...alone. For her. And leaving him without even a simple wave or goodbye.

**--**

Several days later, Rodney wondered if Sheppard would ever speak to him again beyond that necessary to do their duty--though he did not seem particularly angry with Rodney. If anything, Sheppard appeared introspective, casting glances at Rodney when he thought Rodney was not looking. After a while, that became a little unnerving so, for the most part, Rodney kept to his lab and Sheppard kept to his men, setting up a new fitness and training regime, and basic lessons in using Ancient technology. It was easy to forget that the soldiers brought with them were more than just 'grunts'. They were some of the brightest and the best from their respective countries, with some of them capable of taking on scientific research and laboratory work given a few more lessons. Not that any of them matched his superior intellect but, in a pinch, he could probably trust one or two of them with a few simple tasks.

Once more, he found himself wishing for a return to their pre-Chaya friendship. After all, Sheppard had only managed to force-feed him the first half of season one of Star Trek so far, and Rodney knew there was worse yet to come. 'Galileo Seven' had so many plot holes, bad effects, goofs and technological anomalies that even Rodney had lost count by the time the end credits rolled. Still, he had not laughed so hard in a long time and he missed hearing Sheppard laughing right along with him.

Damn, I've got it bad, he thought, wondering how much longer he could avoid revealing how much he wanted John Sheppard.

At least he had made his peace with Teyla following the incident with Chaya. His subterfuge had crossed a few of her personal boundaries on tolerable behavior and, even though he had proved to be right, she had disliked his methods. However, as he pointed out to her, no one had exactly been listening to his concerns, giving him little option but to proceed in the only way he knew how...as a scientist.

In her wisdom, Elizabeth handled the debriefings individually, practically ordering him to get some sleep before reporting back to her. Perhaps she felt the tension between him and Sheppard was just a little too volatile, fearing an explosive combination of recriminations and accusations. Eventually, he learned secondhand from Elizabeth that the wraith had started an attack on Proculus once they realized the strange energy weapon had ceased to attack and destroy their darts, just as Sheppard had suspected. Also, he learned that Chaya had shown John Sheppard what it was like to share fully with an ascended Ancient.

Rodney wondered if that had anything to do with Sheppard's strange behavior since returning. Perhaps Chaya had revealed to him the depth of her anger with Rodney or called him a few choice names, none of which would have been complimentary, and yet nothing he would not have heard before in one language or other. However, Rodney had never striven to win the 'Personality of the Year' award either in this galaxy or in his own and, unless they made having a sparkling personality a pre-requisite for winning the Nobel Prize for Physics then he was unlikely to change. Not that he would ever have the opportunity to submit his work for approval by that august body. Everything he had done since leaving university had been classified as top secret. He had worked for the US Air Force for so long that he was surprised they had never press ganged him into service and given him a military rank.

A pension would have been nice too, he thought sourly.

Zelenka paused beside him, drawing him from his morbid thoughts. "Lunch time."

"I'll be along later."

"You said this same yesterday and you did not."

Rodney looked up in exasperation. "Look...I promise, all right?"

"This you said also."

Under Rodney's intense and stubborn glare, Zelenka raised his hands and said what Rodney knew was a curse in his native language before striding away with the rest of the lab technicians following in his footsteps. Rodney bowed his head back down to his laptop and ran through the simulation one more time, stopping only to make ultra-quick notes in what Sheppard called his chicken scrawl.

When his laptop shifted sideways across the bench top, seemingly of its own volition, Rodney sat back in shock until a food tray slid into its place before him. He looked at the tray, noticing all his favorite foods before glancing up questioningly, expecting to see Zelenka's blue eyes boring into his but, instead, he met the clear light hazel eyes of John Sheppard.

"You brought me food."

"How observant," Sheppard replied in a droll voice as he settled down opposite.

Rodney quirked a smile as he wondered if Sheppard was finally ready to apologize for ignoring his fears concerning Chaya. However, if that was the case then he was not going to make it too easy on the Major despite hating the long evenings spent alone when he had become used to being dragged from his lab to join in whatever event Sheppard had organized for that day. He would even be willing to watch Sheppard's 'Hail Mary' tape one more time if that was what it took to put their friendship back on track.

However, Rodney had his pride, so he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips before speaking.

"In some cultures and species, Major, bringing food to another could be misconstrued as part of a mating ritual."

"It could, could it?"

Sheppard leaned forward and snagged a slice of Athosian bread from the tray, chewing thoughtfully. Rodney stared at him, momentarily mesmerized by the way Sheppard's tongue peeked out to swipe across the soft lips, leaving his lips glistening from traces of what passed for butter. Rodney's eyes widened when Sheppard picked up another piece, leaning forward with the intention of objecting to the loss of more of *his* lunch only to find the bread pressed to his partly open lips.

"Eat," Sheppard commanded. Rodney took a bite, chewing carefully for a change. His eyes darted around the laboratory to check no one had seen any of this but the lab was still empty apart from him and Sheppard.

"Sharing food...and, worse, feeding another, has even deeper connotations."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?"

"She told me a lot of things which I chose to ignore."

"I thought you liked your mother. She gave you the gene," he added slyly.

"Yes...but she also gave me an annoying brat of a sister who took great pleasure in destroying everything I created."

Sheppard smiled wryly, head tilting slightly. Rodney sighed and picked up the heated MRE, noticing it was his favorite filling. He took a bite, staring at Sheppard thoughtfully until he had swallowed the mouthful.

"Apology accepted, Major."

Sheppard's grin lit up his handsome face. "See, that wasn't so hard."

"Despite what you think, Major, I'm not the grudge-holding type."

"Oh?"

"Holding grudges takes up mental energy I could put to far greater use elsewhere."

"Then you're not going to get all vengeful when I mention it was me that took your last bar of chocolate."

"So it *was* you," Rodney snarled through gritted teeth. "That was a Cadbury's whole milk. I traded my Einstein t-shirt to Grodin for that." His pressed his lips tight. "I bet you fed it to...to her!" Rodney started to rise from his seat and Sheppard held out his hands, palms outward in a defensive gesture.

"Now don't do anything rash, McKay. Chaya promised Athar would protect me if you tried to kill me." Sheppard lowered his hands and grinned un-repentantly until Rodney's continued glare had the smile faltering. "Okay...How about I give you my Dandy Warhols' t-shirt."

"You like The Dandy Warhols? How Bohemian like you."

"Is that a joke?" The grin was back. Sheppard snagged the last slice of bread from the tray before Rodney could grab it, and he stood up, waving it in a goodbye gesture as he backed out of the laboratory.

"Don't forget the t-shirt, Major," Rodney called out, and saw Sheppard wave once more before disappearing. When Zelenka returned ten minutes later, Rodney was still smiling.

**--**

With three hive ships bearing down on Atlantis, every second had to count so Rodney was surprised when Sheppard ordered their team to prepare to go off world on a mission, with him included. After losing the last ZPM to the Brotherhood, Rodney was not so certain he was such an asset to the team. That Sheppard thought otherwise was little consolation but it gave him some small hope that he had not lost all of Sheppard's respect following that debacle.

And, for the record, it was all his fault. When Alina asked him about growing up in the city of Atlantis, he should have lied to her. Sheppard would have said something noncommittal about loving the view from the balconies. At the very least, he could have told her they were the newly arrived descendants of those Ancestors rather than leave her with the impression that they were little more than migrants or squatters. However, lying had never been Rodney's forte despite all the evidence that stated that a good sign of intelligence was the ability to lie convincingly. Maybe he was the exception that proved the rule.

Now, they had one last chance to find a ZPM using an address given to the Dr. Weir who had journeyed back in time to save the expedition. One last chance to find a means of powering up the shield before the wraith arrived and, though Elizabeth was uncertain whether Rodney should go on this mission at all, knowing how much he was needed on Atlantis, she had little choice but to send him. The Ancients had hidden those ZPMs well but, somehow, Rodney had a knack for finding them where others failed. Whether it was through his superior intellect, his ATA gene, that growing intuition, sheer fluke or a combination of all was immaterial but, with time running out, they all knew this could be their last hope.

He took a deep breath as the Stargate activated; feeling the adrenaline rush that always accompanied each mission as fear for what lay beyond the shimmering gate grabbed at his heart and mind. The MALP rode on through and he waited impatiently for telemetry. Everything checked out: breathable atmosphere, acceptable levels of radioactivity and visuals showed no hostile conditions.

"Okay, let's move out," yelled Sheppard and Rodney followed, looking back just once to acknowledge Elizabeth's familiar call of 'be safe'.

The strange pull of the wormhole caught at him the moment his body crossed the event horizon, and then there was nothing. No feeling, no sensation, no thought even, until he reformed on the other side. His eyes took in the barren landscape, falling eventually upon the seemingly abandoned MALP that had managed to slide sideways, losing traction. He crossed to it immediately, playing with the controls until he had it righted and ready to roll back through the Stargate to Atlantis. Building a new one was not a great problem, not for someone who could build an atomic bomb and a Naquadah generator with his eyes shut, but he and his people had enough to do without wasting time on something that could be salvaged.

"McKay!"

"In a minute, Major."

Rodney waved perfunctorily at Sheppard, understanding his impatience to get on with the mission rather than play around with pieces of equipment that could be abandoned at a moment's notice. He finished up quickly and set the MALP rolling back towards the event horizon after dialing 'home', stopping it just short of the Stargate as he sent through his ID and waited for confirmation from Atlantis.

"Send it through, Dr. McKay," came the response he needed and, with a quick stab on the control panel, he set the MALP in motion again, sending it home.

The gate shut off with strange finality that always set his senses on edge, making him feel cut off from the only place that could remotely be called a haven for him in this galaxy. Pulling out the small, handheld monitor, he began to scan the immediate area, looking for energy signals. Something registered. Something so faint that if it was a working ZPM then it was either a good distance away, well shielded or nearly depleted. None of those options boded well but, secretly, Rodney hoped it was not the first because they had come on foot, unable to risk taking one of the few remaining puddle jumpers in case yet another wraith dart reached Atlantis well ahead of the hive ships. However, Rodney was not convinced it was the ZPM left in hiding by the Ancients for leaving it switched on would serve no purpose. Most likely, this reading would lead them to a starting point for the real treasure hunt.

"Rodney?"

He looked up from the monitor, always a little surprised when Sheppard used his given name during a mission or while he was working. Maintaining a sense of formality had always seemed important to both of them, and especially to Sheppard who, despite his tendency to question orders, still preferred to retain discipline in the field. Ford was never Aiden except in off duty situations, and *he* was never Rodney unless Sheppard was trying to lure him away from something, like a parent coaxing or trying to reason with a child.

Except, Rodney did not want Sheppard to think of him as a child. Certainly, there was nothing childlike or naive regarding his thoughts for Sheppard. Keeping those erotic thoughts and fantasies hidden from the object of his desire was becoming more difficult with every day spent in the man's company. Only the fear of seeing Sheppard's eyes turn away from him in total disgust kept them from surfacing, except in the most difficult of circumstances like watching Sheppard facing down ten thousand year old psycho wraiths.

Keeping a sense of formality between them lessened the chance of him giving himself away to the otherwise, very perceptive man, so it had become a force of habit to think of John Sheppard as 'Sheppard' or 'the Major'. He only used John's given name on those rare occasions when they could relax without raising anyone's suspicions, though relaxation had become an alien concept of late. No one was relaxing on Atlantis these days and, truth be known, Rodney doubted anyone was getting much sleep either. He had been managing on less than five hours a night since the long range sensors detected the three hive ships, with the time spent in one laboratory or another as he supervised the different projects working towards defending Atlantis. Earlier he had assisted Zelenka and Kavanagh, who were working on adapting the shield to cover a vastly smaller area of the city, perhaps just the center consisting of the gate room, laboratories and some of the personnel quarters. It had no benefit in the long term for the wraith could merely destroy the city around them, sending Atlantis back into the deep and them along with it but, as a short term defense it should buy them enough time to evacuate all remaining personnel. Not that there was any place safe to go in this galaxy but some hope was always better than no hope.

"McKay?"

Sheppard's tone had hardened in exasperation and Rodney pointed off towards a slight rise. "That way, Major."

Rodney noticed that they had fallen into the usual pattern with Teyla on point, Sheppard second in line and Ford on their six...to use Sheppard's military terminology. Whenever Rodney stopped to recheck his bearings, everyone came to a halt before veering off smoothly in the direction he indicated and in that same formation. It reminded Rodney of the tiny shoal of neon tetras he'd had in a small aquarium kept in the front hallway as a kid.

He liked fish and, as a child, he would watch them for hours on end, trying to work out some complex algorithm to determine when each abrupt course change would take place. The model had worked for the most part but failed as soon as he tried to factor in all the external stimuli such as the sudden appearance of the cat or the abrupt sound of the daily newspaper striking the front door as the paperboy lobbed it from the street beyond. Eventually, he had determined that there were too many external variables outside of the control conditions so he tried to move the tank some place where he could reduce those factors. He dropped the surprisingly heavy tank as he struggled up the stairs towards his bedroom, and even if he could have moved fast enough to find another bowl of water to save the fish, he had not reckoned on the speed of the cat. They were gone in seconds, and his father refused to replace them.

Why all this came to mind now was a complete loss on Rodney. It had little bearing on what they were doing on this planet except for this feeling that he and his friends were just tiny little fish swimming in a tank, darting this way and that as they tried to avoid the dangers surrounding them. In this analogy, he supposed the wraith would be considered the cat, with its hunger-filled, slitted eyes and sharp teeth and claws. Swallowing hard, Rodney shied away from that line of thought.

They reached the top of a second rise and looked down into a small village consisting of crude huts made of mud and roofed with sticks and straw. Spread out beyond the village was the ruins of an ancient city. Though no wall remained higher than a few feet above the ground, Rodney could make out the thoroughfares, almost seeing the mosaic patterns formed by the use of dark and light cobblestone. It would have been beautiful in its heyday.

"Looks empty," Ford murmured, and Rodney assumed he was talking about the village.

"Do you think the wraith have already been here?" asked Teyla.

"I don't know...it looks a little too peaceful," Rodney replied, gaining an upraised eyebrow from Sheppard. "If the wraith had been here then I'd expect to see scattered objects from a panic stricken--"

"Yeah, he's right. It is too peaceful. Maybe they're wary of anyone coming through the Stargate," interrupted Sheppard.

"I know I would be," murmured Rodney, gaining a twitch of a smile from Sheppard.

"Well...let's see if we can find someone willing to talk. Teyla?" She nodded once and led the way into the village.

People started to emerge from the ruins as they approached and Rodney felt more than happy to leave Teyla and Sheppard dealing with the introductions while he wandered off, following the slightly increasing energy signature into the ruins. The lack of structures did not deter him in the least as most cultures tended to house their power generators underground for some inexplicable reason. All he had to do was figure out how to access the control room used by this once great city and hope the former occupants had left some clue as to where he could locate a fully charged ZPM. At the very least, he could obtain this heavily depleted power source on the grounds that something was better than nothing.

It was close now, practically below his feet but Rodney could see no obvious entrance. The sound of Sheppard's voice in his ear made him jump but he quickly tapped the ear piece.

"Major?"

"McKay! Get back here now. We've got company."

"Wraith?"

Confirmation came from the all too familiar whine of a wraith dart buzzing over the ruins and the distant staccato of gunfire as Sheppard and Ford tried to bring it down. Rodney broke into a run, heading back through the ruins and cursing his stupidity in coming so far alone. He veered sharply away from the village as the white light of the wraith transporter swept through the panicking crowd, snatching up half a dozen villagers as they ran in all directions.

"This is not good," he murmured in near panic, desperately trying to spot Sheppard, Ford and Teyla among the screaming people. He used his brain and headed for the sound of a P90, his breath laboring in his chest as he dodged between the broken walls and stumbled over the uneven cobblestones that had so entranced him earlier, pausing momentarily as the handheld slipped from his hand to the debris-strewn ground. A split second debate told him to abandon it; Kavanagh could build another.

Ahead, he could see John Sheppard waving frantically to him, understanding too late as white light engulfed his body. The echo of a single word torn from Sheppard reverberated through him as his world turned black...NO!

**--**

Rodney forced open his eyes and stared around the small enclosure. Beside him, others were beginning to stir, their voices rising in panic as they realized what had happened to them. He felt his panic grow along with them as he looked around the dozen faces sharing his nightmare but, thankfully, none were familiar. As much as he would have welcomed Sheppard's presence to ease the fear clawing at his belly, he would not wish this nightmare on him, or on Teyla or Ford.

There must be a way out of here, he thought, and pushed his way through the frightened people towards the spider web door, dropping to one knee to inspect the opening mechanism that he could see but not reach from inside the holding cell. If he could figure out how to short-circuit it then he could try to escape. There had to be a panel recessed into the wall, which gave him some means of accessing the controls from inside. He patted through his vest pockets, searching for anything he could use to dig into the strange, mucus-coated wall in the hope of reaching the back of the control panel.

Footsteps echoed along the darkened corridor. Rodney watched in horror as a wraith with features so similar to Steve that he could have been a clone, marched towards the cell, shadowed by two of the large soldier wraith. Rodney backed away as the web-like cell door opened like a pair of ratty netted curtains, admitting the wraith. It sniffed the air, head tilting as its eyes gained an all too familiar intensity. Rodney had seen that look so many times on the live feed from Steve's cell, and experienced it first hand on more occasions that he cared to recall, most especially during that last visit when he faced Steve alone.

This is definitely not good, he thought, while desperately trying to disappear into the wall behind him.

The head turned in his direction, the wraith taking another step forward towards him as the terrified villagers parted to hug the walls and each other. It sniffed again, deeply, practically salivating as those cat-like eyes fixed upon him.

"Atlantean," it stated in a sibilant whisper, before hissing once.

A soldier wraith pushed forward and grabbed at Rodney's arm, dragging him along behind his wraith superior as the Steve clone turned and strode from the cell. Rodney tried to shake free but it tightened its already bruising grip on his biceps, uncaring when Rodney lost his footing. Excruciating pain flared through Rodney as his shoulder dislocated, wrenched out of the socket by the sudden twist of his body as he fell. He screamed out but the soldier did not falter, simply dragging him along bodily as Rodney passed out once more.

The pain followed him back to consciousness and he groaned softly, opening heavy eyes as he tried to raise his hand to rub away whatever was clinging to his face. His arm would not move. He tried the other but, even the slightest attempt to use the muscle sent more pain slamming through him. In shock, he realized he was paralyzed, barely able to move anything but his eyes. Moments later, he wished he had lost his sight when he saw what was keeping him immobile. Memories of Gall wrapped in his sticky web cocoon crowded in on Rodney, driving away all other thought.

He was in one of the compartments the wraith used to store their human food.

Movement drew his eyes to the right and he watched as a wraith went through a pile of material and other objects scattered across a low surface--his clothing and equipment. They had stripped him naked, taking away anything he might have used to plan an escape. The wraith inspected every item of clothing and every piece of equipment carefully before sweeping the pile to the floor in disgust, having found nothing of any use. It turned and stared at Rodney, smiling maliciously as it stepped towards him, raising one long finger and scraping it down Rodney's cheek.

Oh no...if there's ever a time for a rescue it's now, he thought in desperation, wanting it so bad he could visualize John Sheppard racing through the doorway beyond with his P90 in hand; Rodney's knight in shining armor coming to save him, to slay the beast and sweep him away to where they'd live happily ever after like in all the best fairy tales. But this was no work of fiction. This was the terrifying world of his reality.

"I have not tasted Atlantean in ten thousand years," it crowed. "A delicacy missing from our menu for far too long."

The finger continued its slow journey south, drawing down the side of Rodney's neck before following the path of his collarbone to his sternum where it stopped. Rodney turned his thoughts away from the horror, seeking sanctuary in his dreams of what could have been if he'd only had the courage to tell John how he felt about him.

"Fear...I can taste your fear, Atlantean...and...desire."

Rodney drew in a harsh breath as it drew back its hand, its slitted-pupils widening fractionally, snarling as it slammed its palm against Rodney's chest. He screamed as the nails and feeding orifice penetrated his flesh, feeling the life energy being sucked out of his body in waves of sickening pain. Seconds passed like hours, and he could barely whimper when the hand pulled away, terrified as he wondered how much of his life had been ripped from his body in those few seconds.

**--**

How many hours had it been since the wraith last fed on him? He did not know, and he had lost count of how many times it had returned for one more taste. Normally, he had a good sense of time even when caught up in the excitement of a new discovery, losing track of time only while he worked but knowing, instinctively, how many hours had past when he raised his eyes back up to the outside world. The weakness in his body had stripped him of this instinctive ability. His mind felt fuzzy, clouded with a deep, dull ache that throbbed slowly with every beat of his sluggish heart.

Paralysis had given way to a creeping torpor that was so different from his last memory of being stunned by the wraith. Then, the paralysis had worn off slowly, leaving him with the worst case of pins and needles he'd experienced in his life. Worse than the attacks of cramp he was susceptible to from spending too long in one position staring at a screen or working on the latest Ancient artifact found in the great city. He could think of no comparison to this terrifying numbness until a memory surfaced, recalling the wraith bug that had attached itself to Sheppard, and the simple description of his symptoms as the bug continued to feed upon him. This was the same; a slow loss of sensation creeping up from his fingertips and toes and moving inwards to the core of his being, increasing in magnitude with each feed upon his life force.

He was dying. Slowly. Minute by precious minute, and only now comprehending the thoughts that must have gone through Brendan's head in those last hours of his life. Except, Rodney did not need a mirror to verify what his mind already knew, for he had felt the loss of every single year as the wraith stole it from him.

He envied Brendan, for there was no one here to give him a loaded gun so he could end his torturous existence and find peace. At the same time, he hated himself for even entertaining such a thought. Brendan's death was not meaningless, or selfish. He might have lived another day, or another year with medical help but he sacrificed what remained to give others a chance to live. Though Rodney did not believe in God, in that moment he finally understood Brendan's sacrifice, and he prayed. He prayed that John would never suffer this fate, knowing he would willingly give up his last breath to save him from this. To give him...to give John a chance to live.

John.

See, it's not so hard to think of him as John, he thought, and the single name conjured up images of the man he had come to love with a passion that surprised him. Snatches of memory crept through his sluggish mind; of bright eyes filled with mischievous pleasure when they played with the personal shield; of a radiant, easy smile turned upon him when he'd done something good, a smile that meant more than any platitude falling from other lips. Another memory crowded in, of eyes filled with anger outside Steve's holding cell and yet, with nothing else filling his tired mind, he saw the fear beneath that anger. Fear for him.

'Fear...I can taste your fear, Atlantean...and...desire.'

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no," he whispered through numbed lips as the annoying, elusive thought from all those weeks ago finally took form, understanding all too late what it meant. Steve had tasted his fear and desire for John as he basked in the protective warmth of John's presence in the holding cell, and the wraith had tasted John's emotions too; had tasted his fear and desire for *him*.

Tears formed in his eyes, burning and stinging, blinding him. Tears of self pity and tears of regret...and nothing could hold them back from falling. They barely tickled against his numbed cheek yet he could feel their heat searing his flesh as he thought of all the opportunities wasted when they could have had so much together.

The dark alien world beyond his prison wavered out of focus, becoming strangely pearlescent as tears blurred his eyes. Yet, he barely noticed until he felt the almost imperceptible shudder running along the length of his numbed body, vibrating through the encasing mucus cocoon and the storage compartment.

Another shudder, more violent, rocked his world again and from the edges of his vision, he saw walls collapsing in upon themselves, buckling and twisting as the air shimmered around him in a soft glow. Balls of fire erupted through open doorways, and flames licked greedily at the air, consuming the oxygen. Through a haze, he saw wraith rushing by, and watched in confusion as they were sucked into the vortex of air streaming through the ever-widening cracks and holes in the ship's walls.

Alien thoughts seeped into his mind as his body burned white hot; regret, and hope and love weaving through the sluggish pathways, firing synapses. Intense pain screamed through reawakened nerve endings but he could not draw in enough breath to let the scream escape from his tortured body. With eyes wide open, he watched in morbid fascination as the wraith ship tore apart around him, peeling opening to the hard vacuum of space, expecting to die from explosive decompression at any moment, and welcoming it. Ahead was a blue shimmer, circled in dots of red light. The Stargate approached rapidly, heading straight for him, sucking in fiery pieces of wraith debris, and Rodney cried out hoarsely in shock as he passed through the event horizon.

**--**

"Unscheduled off world activation! We have an incoming wormhole."

"Raise the shield!" called Elizabeth. Grodin went to smack his hand down on the button and froze as a familiar hum filled the gate room.

"It's already up." Grodin pressed another symbol several times in quick succession. "The gate will not shut down."

Massive explosions rained against the shield while Elizabeth looked on in horror, glancing aside only when Sheppard raced into the control area with P90 in hand. Bates and a dozen more soldiers came running, taking up position as the terrible barrage continued. She looked to Sheppard again, only registering his gaunt face with dark smudges circling beneath battle-fatigued eyes when she locked with them for a moment.

She knew her own face held similar ravages of grief, recalling the shell-shocked, glassy-eyed stare on Sheppard's face when his team returned from its mission, herding dozens of refugees through the gate...but without Rodney.

Was it only yesterday?

**--**

John swallowed; his expression hardening as he raced to the top of the stairs, taking up position while simultaneously yelling orders for his men to fall back up top and take cover. If the shield failed then whatever the wraith were firing through the Stargate at them could destroy anything and anyone remaining at ground level - instantly. He gripped his gun tighter when the shield collapsed; shielding his eyes as flaming metal sailed through the gate, impacting against the lower walls of the gate room with far less speed than he had anticipated. As one final, large slab of debris materialized, the gate shut itself off, leaving the gate room in eerie silence but for the creaking of the black and pitted piece of debris that slowly toppled, gaining momentum as gravity took it backwards through the center of the Stargate. It hit the ground with a solid thump.

"Put those fires out," he yelled as he raced down the stairs, taking three or four at a time with Bates and Ford directly on his heels. Cautiously, John approached the large chunk of debris, glancing up at the control tower as Elizabeth contacted him through his head set.

"What is it?"

"Looks like part of a wraith ship."

"Be careful!"

He nodded towards Elizabeth with a twisted smile, knowing he would be careful only because he owed it to her and to all the other members of the expedition to protect them. Yet, inside, he felt numb. Without Rodney, life had lost most of its meaning and all of its joy. Everywhere he looked reminded him of the irascible scientist; of his infectious enthusiasm for the most unremarkable of things; of his impatience when dealing with other people's stupidity which only made them try harder just to please him. The quick mind and agile fingers were in constant motion, moving from one discipline to another with astounding speed and ability, throwing out ideas into the ether that others snatched up and brought to fruition. And his voice had echoed through too many halls and corridors.

Rodney had always claimed to be a genius, and even Kavanagh had never refuted that claim as much as he hated Rodney's smugness. He *was* a genius, and the shock of his loss, while three hive ships filled with tens of thousands of soul-sucking wraith were heading straight towards them, had crushed what was left of the morale in Atlantis.

John hefted the P90 to his chin, looking down the length of it as he moved into position with Bates and Ford backing him up. He knew he was looking at a wraith food compartment the moment he glanced inside, seeing the barely recognizable human form wrapped in a cocoon made of that strange web-like, fibrous resin. He grimaced. Even if morale was not at an all time low then this ghastly reminder of their approaching fate would sink it to the very depths of despair.

Blood splatter across the chest area, staining the fibers torn aside to expose flesh, held the too familiar pattern of a wraith feed. John looked up the body to the partially hidden face, seeing pale flesh peaking through the off-white strands of web covering the face. He frowned, his heart speeding up as he sensed familiarity with the hidden shape of cheekbones and chin, and in the dark patches of exhaustion beneath slightly sunken eyes. The P90 dropped to the floor with a clatter as he grabbed the knife from its sheath and sliced at the fibers concealing most of the face, dropping the knife in favor of his bare hands as he tore it apart.

"Rodney," he whispered. Two fingers dove for the pulse point at Rodney's throat and found an irregular, thready beat. He tapped on his headset. "Get Beckett. Now!"

"Major, what is it?"

John spun on his heel to face the control room, looking up to meet Elizabeth's concerned face peering down at him.

"It's Rodney...and he's alive."

* * *

Four hours later, John found himself alone in the slightly darkened infirmary, staring at the slack face and finding it strange to see Rodney so still. He was used to Rodney being a whirlwind of thought or action around Atlantis. His hands always in motion as he described things, his mouth running at breakneck speed while that incredible mind churned through reams of data and calculations.

Except, he could recall an ever-growing number of times when Rodney had sat beside him quietly, talking occasionally to share a joke or insight, or laugh at John's, but otherwise simply lazing around with him. They would watch old TV shows and B-movies, or sit in the commissary with a mug of pseudo-coffee remarking about the different people who passed by, like a pair of old gossips--or sniggering school boys.

That last terrible memory of watching Rodney disappear inside the wraith transporter light assailed him again but, this time, he let it play out.

**--**

John's skin tingled, the wraith beam goose-bumping his flesh as it veered off a split second before snatching him up too.

"Stop firing. Stop firing!" He yelled at Ford and Teyla to stop firing on the dart, knowing Rodney was on-board. "Get back to the Stargate!"

If they could get to the Stargate before the wraith finished this attack then he could get the gate co-ordinates for the wraith hive ship, and find out where they were taking Rodney. They could rescue him...bring him home.

He ran hard, his lungs burning, only caring about the darts whining over his head when he realized they were heading for the Stargate too. Teyla was some distance ahead of him by now, with her lithe, athletic figure easily outstripping him, and he prayed she would get there in time. As he reached the crest of the final rise, he saw the gate whoosh open in the distance, and his eyes fixed on the darts as they hurtled towards the shimmering puddle, so blue...like Rodney's eyes.

Teyla was racing across the short barren flatland. He could see her powerful legs and arms pumping hard and he screamed out his frustration with the last of his breath as the gate shut down while she was still some distance away.

Too late. They were too late.

Some how, he reached the DHD, stars dancing before his eyes from lack of oxygen, bending double from the pain in his chest as he tried to draw in enough breath to feed his brain. Frantically, he stared at the dormant symbols circled around the dull red activation control, hoping to see or feel some after-burn that would tell him which symbols had been activated.

Rodney would have known how to retrieve the last address dialed, he thought...but Rodney was gone. Rodney was gone. No...He couldn't be gone. He couldn't.

John had no idea how long he had stood there, doubled over and staring at the unchanging dial before Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face him, breathing as hard as John.

"We've...gotta...go, sir. They'll be...back for us...and...for the rest."

Tears were tracking down Ford's face but John could not cry. He wanted to scream and rage but he could not cry. He looked back at the dozens of exhausted strangers streaming down the last rise and across the short plain, seeing their terrified faces silently pleading with him to take them away to safety. Automatically, his eyes swept the crowd just in case he'd been mistaken, just in case Rodney had dived aside in time, or tripped over his own two often clumsy feet...something...anything but the terrible truth that he was gone.

"He's gone...sir," stated Ford, slowly regaining his breath, "But maybe...maybe one of them eggheads...in Atlantis. Maybe Zelenka..?"

"Dial it up, Lieutenant."

His struggling voice sounded strange to his ears. Too calm compared to the never-ending scream that echoed through his head. Ford pressed on the seven symbols that would take them back to Atlantis, looking up at the Stargate as he pressed the center circle. The liquid explosion of the wormhole connecting whooshed towards him, and then he was rushing the survivors through the gate, following them into a moment of oblivion until he coalesced on the other side.

"Major?" Elizabeth's eyes were running frantically over the dozens of faces but not finding the familiar one she was seeking; the one he had sought in the same crowd. "John? Where's Rodney?"

**--**

"Rodney's here," he murmured as his thoughts returned to the present. By some miracle, Rodney was here and he was alive.

Movement caught at his vision and he turned his head slightly to see Carson standing in the shadows beyond. The gentle doctor stepped forward, reaching out to place the back of his hand against one of Rodney's pale cheeks, as if gaging his temperature from touch alone. However, John knew better. They had all felt the urge to touch Rodney, as if to verify that he was really there and not just part of a desperate dream.

"I know I should be grateful but...he looks so young lying there. When I saw the feeding marks I bloody thought he'd had it."

"I was expecting another Gall," whispered John, and Carson nodded, both of them sharing that horror.

They had brought back Gall and Abrams bodies to Atlantis. Abrams had been little more than a desiccated skeleton, wrapped up in a too familiar uniform to be the ten thousand-year-old mummified remains of someone else. Gall had left Atlantis as a young scientist, only to return as an old man with half his brains blown away.

When John pulled away the strange fibers concealing Rodney's face, he had been prepared for the worst. He had expected to see lines of old age etched into the oddly handsome face, and to see brown hair thinned and turned the color of snow. Like Gall...and like Sumner.

"All that blood around his chest but not a mark on him. I don't rightly understand it." Carson touched John's shoulder. "Don't get me wrong. I'm pleased as punch that he's alive and...unchanged."

"Then what's wrong with him?"

Carson shook his head in exasperation. "I can't find a bloody thing wrong with him...so I don't know why he won't wake up. But it must have been traumatic for him. Maybe he just needs a little more time."

John nodded, barely able to imagine the horror Rodney must have gone through during that single day in the hands of the wraith. Even if they had not found time to feed from him, just being paralyzed and cocooned, fully aware of what was to come and helpless to stop it, would have been a terrifying ordeal for any man. More so for Rodney because John had left him alone with Gall. He had left him alone in a creepy ten-thousand-year-old derelict wraith supply ship filled with the corpses of a thousand murdered humans. Left him with a dying man aged beyond his years, shouldering all of Gall's fears along with his own. He had left Rodney with the sound of a single gunshot echoing around the compartment as Gall blew his brains out rather than face a slow and agonizing death as the wraith stun effect slowly wore off.

Unlike Gall, Rodney had been totally alone in his nightmare, and all his amazing intelligence would have simply told him his chances of being rescued in time were slim to nonexistent, even if anyone knew where he'd been taken.

"It's a bloody miracle he's here at all."

John frowned. Was it a miracle that one single compartment from a wraith hive ship containing thousands of humans stored for food should accidentally fall through a Stargate to this exact address, and that this compartment should contain Rodney McKay? The Rodney McKay that John loved; the knowledge of which he had shared, inadvertently, with only one other being in this galaxy.

"I don't think it is."

"No?"

"No...Or maybe a little."

Carson snorted. "Which one is it, man?"

John tapped his radio.

"Elizabeth? Dial the Proculus gate." John waited impatiently, almost visualizing Grodin as he hit the symbols, a frown furrowing his brow when Grodin reported back that the last symbol refused to lock. "Try again," he ordered but he had a terrible suspicion that the Proculus gate was gone forever. Destroyed by the impact of a wraith hive ship.

Elizabeth answered. "The seventh symbol refuses to lock. John? What is it?"

He could see only one explanation for Rodney's miraculous return, alive and whole, and the loss of the Proculus Stargate.

"I think Chaya saved Rodney."

John tightened his grip on Rodney's limp hand. If this latest in a series of terrible events had proved anything to him, it was that time was a luxury none of them could afford to waste. Every moment was precious and ought to be lived to the full.

In hindsight, all his reasons for concealing his true feelings for Rodney seemed pathetic. All of the avoidance, and all of the coolness he sent back when Rodney got a little too close for John's personal comfort, seemed a little juvenile in retrospect.

Don't ask, don't tell was not there to encourage single sex relationships but neither was it there to deter them. It simply asked to live and let live, in silence. With both of them at the same level of command, and especially with Rodney being a civilian, there were no obstacles to prevent them forming a relationship that went deeper than simple friendship. As long as they did not flaunt their relationship openly then it did not matter to the military, and should not be anyone else's business.

As Carson walked away, leaving him alone in his silent vigil, John made a promise that, not if but *when* Rodney awoke, he would not waste any more time. He would tell him how he felt.

**--**

Rodney was uncertain which he noticed first; the familiar scent beneath the more strident antiseptic smell of the infirmary, the murmur of a much loved voice within the other well-known sounds and voices, or the pressure of a warm hand holding his tightly as if refusing to ever let him go again.

As he did not believe in heaven or hell beyond what most people made for themselves in life, he could find only one rational explanation. He was home; home on Atlantis, and John Sheppard was with him.

Much of the fear that had governed his long hours on-board the hive ship vanished simply by knowing John was here in Atlantis rather than dead or dying at the hands of the wraith. Although he had not seen any sign of John on-board, and the wraith had not gloated about having another 'delicacy' other than him, he had not been able to rule out the possibility that they had captured John too.

Since the awakening, the wraith had been falling upon worlds with a voraciousness that defied description, barely leaving enough humans behind to replenish the race, though Rodney suspected that this had never been their intention. Those who survived the culling did so by sheer fluke rather than by design, leaving only one logical reason; the wraith believed it had another, greater food source within its grasp. Through Sumner, it knew that Atlantis was the gateway to the richest feeding ground in the wraith's history; thousands of worlds seeded by the Goa'uld, with each containing potentially millions perhaps even billions of humans who were ripe for culling.

Rodney heard Elizabeth's voice join the hushed conversation taking place beside him.

"Chaya?"

He frowned upon hearing the Ancient's name spoken aloud, even though the echo of Chaya's thoughts still resounded within him. He could feel her warm presence enshrouding him, filling the dark corners of his mind, soothing and patient. Her thoughts had brushed through him, with tendrils sliding deep into his mind, revealing so much of the loneliness that had drawn her to John Sheppard, and through John, to him.

The pins and needles of a past experience with a wraith stun had been nothing in comparison to the raw pain that invaded every cell as she pushed life back into his wraith-ravaged body, undoing all their damage. Now, he felt only residual weakness in his aching joints but, before she slipped away as he crossed the event horizon, she had assured him that it would be temporary.

He felt humbled by her willingness to help him after all he had done to cause her pain, yet wondering how she would justify her intervention to the others of her kind. Had they not punished her by allowing her only to help those on Proculus?

He opened his eyes as John and Elizabeth continued to debate the possibility of Chaya's intervention in saving him from the wraith.

"Wraith darts are short range only and, as they didn't come through the Proculus Stargate, there had to be a hive ship close by. What if the wraith that attacked P33 PXY came through from the Proculus gate? What if they took Rodney back to that hive ship?"

"And you think Chaya sensed Rodney on-board the wraith ship and risked her people on Proculus to--"

"Rodney?"

Rodney frowned at the dark circles staining the skin beneath John's eyes and strengthened his grip on the warm hand still clasping his tightly. John squeezed back, a beautiful smile stretching across his haggard features, lessening the shadows of some distant pain in his eyes.

"How're you feeling?"

"Oh...a little...tired." His voice was slurred from the debilitating fatigue that had drained his body.

He tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to drink in the sight of John Sheppard for as long as he could, but his eyelids were so heavy. Too heavy. Dragging downwards against his will. He fought against the tiredness, knowing there was something important he had to say to John, something he promised to say if he was given another chance. The memory came back to him and with the last of his strength he said the words, unheeding of whom else heard as long as they reached John.

"Love...you."

**--**

His chest burned and itched, the splatters of blood from earlier feeds had dried on his skin quickly within the confining heat of the ship and the food compartment. He felt so weak, so tired, and so scared of the debilitating effect this had on his thoughts. He was used to thinking almost non-stop, unable to rest even in sleep for his mind carried on regardless of his conscious presence; formulating, planning, storing information and accessing older memories in answer to problems posed throughout the day. Yet, he could not follow a single train of thought for more than a minute now, unable to reach the vast amounts of information stored in his brain because of his lack of physical and mental energy.

Was this part of what the wraith stole as they fed; the electricity that fired his synapses and carried commands throughout his body? That thought slipped away along with so many others, leaving his mind blank, like a PC monitor before the first equation streamed from his consciousness along to the fingers poised above the keyboard.

'You think too much,' someone had once remarked but he could not even picture their face. The memory would not come to him but another image slowly gained substance within his mind and he clung on to it dearly. A handsome face with intelligent hazel eyes and a shock of gravity defying dark hair that reminded Rodney of that time when he looked in a mirror after receiving a mild electric shock.

He laughed softly, wondering if John stuck his fingers in hair gel or an electric socket to get his hair to stand up so messily every day. Or maybe it was a serial case of bed head that John had given up on trying to fix each morning.

He frowned. He shouldn't be thinking these inane thoughts. He should be thinking of a way out of here, or using the time to work on the Naquadah energy configuration equations to see if he could get more power out of the generators, or at least enough to power the Chair in Atlantis. He and Jonas had worked on some ideas. If only he could remember...but even Jonas's face was a blur to him now. His thoughts drifted away again only to be brought back by fear as footsteps echoed along the corridor, drawing closer.

Rodney could not see the approaching wraith, unable to move his head within the thick strands that bound him so securely. Even his peripheral vision was restricted by the sides of the storage unit. His heart strained under the release of what little adrenaline the automated parts of his failing mind could order his body to produce. The only analogy his mind could form was that his body was a large battery, and the wraith had sucked most of the juice out of it. His thought processes and his body commands all acted like a machine that was slowly running down, growing sluggish until it finally stalled completely...death.

It came into view, stopping before him and grinning but Rodney saw a difference. This was not the same one that had fed upon him earlier. Maybe it would not be as careful as the other. Maybe it would take all that remained of his life rather than leave him with this ever increasing weakness of body and mind.

It struck him hard on the chest; nails digging in deep, drawing a weak, hoarse cry from him as pain rippled through what little remained of his deadened nervous system. He tried to escape the relentless pressure on his chest, tried to break through the paralysis holding his arms like bands of steel. Through the fear and pain he heard a familiar voice calling his name and, in desperation, he reached out for it with all his remaining strength.

"Rodney. You're safe. I've got you. You're safe. Just a dream. Just a bad dream."

His eyes flew open and it took a few seconds to adjust to the dim lights of the infirmary when he expected to see the innards of a wraith hive ship. The bands of steel holding him paralyzed were arms, John's arms, and Rodney sagged into them, no longer fighting him.

"Hurt," he whispered against the broad shoulder.

"Where? Where are you hurting?"

"Then. Hurt...when they...fed on me." His ragged breathing slowed, the pain in his chest easing as his heart stopped beating so rapidly and his lungs drew in deep oxygenated air.

He pulled back from John's embrace, eyes dropping to his own hands, turning them over in search of the visible signs of decrepitude brought on by the feeding. He saw nothing. No liver spots and no wrinkles beyond those that had existed before, perhaps there were even a few less if that was possible. It did not make sense until he recalled the warm glow that had surrounded him in those last few minutes on-board the wraith ship, and the intense pain from awakening nerve endings as life flooded back into his body.

"She healed me."

"Chaya?"

Rodney looked into John's questioning eyes, and nodded. Feeling much stronger now he had shaken off the nightmare, he pushed to sit upright and John helped him by raising the head of the bed.

"That makes sense," Carson stated rapidly, only now making his presence known to Rodney. "Even before ascension, the Ancients had the gift of healing. General O'Neill demonstrated it when he saved Bra'tac's life after the Jaffa master was stabbed by a traitor loyal to Anubis."

"And you know this because..?" asked Sheppard.

"Because I'm a doctor studying the Ancients. In fact, have you ever noticed how fast you heal compared to others, Major? You and Rodney, and all the others with the gene, natural or otherwise. I don't think that single ATA gene is the whole story, else you'd be 'laying hands' on people...but it would explain why some people have a gift for healing. It's in their genetic code, a gift from the Ancients."

"All interesting stuff...but can we get back to Chaya?"

"Oh...sorry, Major."

"Rodney, what do you remember about Chaya?"

"She knew I was on-board and...and dying but she couldn't help me. Not until the wraith thought their hive ship might be a match for her energy weapon around Proculus, and took it in too close."

"Then all bets were off," added John wryly, recalling how she had deliberately targeted the darts and not the puddle jumper when they first came across her world. The other Ancients had not called her to task for saving them that time and perhaps she had counted on them being equally disinterested when she saved Rodney. He hoped so, but hated that he had no way of letting her know how thankful he was for her timely intervention.

He recalled the promise he had made, of not wasting another day without telling Rodney how he felt about him. Swallowing hard, he then took a deep breath and turned to Carson, indicating towards Rodney.

"Can we have a little time together? In private."

"In truth, Major, I was going to release Rodney as soon as he woke up. There's not a thing wrong with him physically that a little extra rest won't cure," he turned to Rodney, "though I'd like you to consider speaking to Kate about...well, you know."

John watched Rodney carefully; expecting to see a shuttered expression that told him Rodney had no plans of following that advice. Instead, Rodney nodded and John waited until Carson had moved off before raising an eyebrow in query. Rodney looked a little embarrassed.

"I've...been talking on and off with Dr. Heightmeyer since...since Gall and Abrams."

"Okay." John nodded, knowing he had a few unresolved issues concerning that fateful mission too, except Gall and Abrams did not figure into it so much as his feelings for Rodney. However, he did not intend to reveal that to anyone other than this man. "How about I escort you back to you quarters and we can have that talk there?"

"If this is about me saying 'I love you'--"

"It is."

"We could always put it down to...to my immense relief at waking up and finding I was no longer the special on the wraith's menu...for that day anyway. I'd probably had said the same thing to Kavanagh if he'd been looming--"

"No you wouldn't."

"Okay...so maybe that would be a little extreme."

"Even for you."

"Seriously, if you have a problem with what I said--"

"Yeah, I do...and that's why we need to discuss it. In private."

Rodney looked worried and John felt a little guilty for not easing his mind immediately but, given the choice, he did not want to start up a conversation here that might be overheard by others. While they bantered back and forth, Rodney had eased his legs over the side of the bed and John had passed clothes to him, watching carefully to ensure he was a healthy and strong as Beckett implied. Rodney dressed fast, moving to the door with some alacrity, as if afraid Beckett would change his mind if he lingered for one second longer than necessary.

Though he steered Rodney on the shortest route between the infirmary and his quarters, they passed a surprising number of people along the way. Others appeared at lab doors, smiling in a mixture of happiness and relief at an increasingly nervous Rodney McKay.

John understood why.

Losing Rodney had sent the morale of the whole expedition into a free fall, hurtling towards the abyss at breakneck speed. His return inside a wraith food compartment had left them all holding their breath. Only now, as they watched him pass by along the hallways without a visible mark from his ordeal at the hands of the wraith, could they breathe again. John knew that word of Rodney's safe return had spread through Atlantis faster than the speed of light, boosting morale at a time when they needed to have faith and courage. He felt almost selfish for wanting to take Rodney away from them so soon, allowing them only a glimpse of the man whose brains might be what saved them all from the coming wraith attack.

The door to Rodney's quarters opened as they drew near and John's lips twitched in a smile, knowing Rodney had given the silent command. His attraction to Rodney had started the day Beckett gave Rodney the gene therapy, discovering that being a geek did not necessarily mean he had to be a nerd too, whereas Kavanagh was both a geek and a nerd.

Once inside, the door closed behind them and John watched as Rodney stared around his room as if he had never expected to see it again. He could see the fine tremble in Rodney's frame and, although baiting Rodney was a great game under normal circumstances, he felt no inclination to extend Rodney's fear on this occasion. John walked up behind him and slipped his arms around Rodney's waist, leaning in to nuzzle at the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He felt Rodney tense for a moment before relaxing. He shivered as John placed gentle kisses against the side of his throat before sucking gently on the slightly bristled, slightly sticky flesh. He licked his lips at the unusual taste.

Rodney turned in his arms, blue eyes holding his in stunned relief, as if he had never expected this. A few weeks ago, he might have been right for John had not been ready to commit and would have run the moment the 'L' word reared its head.

After P33 PXY, he understood exactly what he had to lose because he had seen Rodney snatched away right before his eyes, and he had been powerless to stop it. For one whole day, he had believed Rodney lost to him forever, barely able to function around the shock. All the things he should have said and done became a pile of regrets heaped upon his shoulders and crushing him under their weight. He could not afford to make that same mistake twice in one lifetime, not when he had been granted a second chance.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Rodney's, letting his actions speak louder than any words. Warm lips parted beneath his and, tentatively, he licked at the lips before sweeping inside to taste Rodney. He tasted slightly medicinal, most likely from the wash given by one of Beckett's nurses to remove most of the sticky resin adhering to almost every inch of Rodney's naked flesh.

Rodney pulled back, eyes a little fearful. "I need to take a shower...but I don't want you to go."

John poked out the tip of his tongue, still tasting something strange. His eyes widened, and then he screwed up his nose in disgust when he realized what he tasted.

"You didn't happen to see how they produced that...stuff you were cocooned in?"

"I don't think you'd want to know even if I had."

"Probably be too much information," he stated, recalling how certain creatures excreted stuff with similar properties to store their prey for later feeding. What if the wraith did the same? After all, the stuff wrapped around Gall had to have come from somewhere.

Rodney quirked up one side of his mouth in a lopsided smile, almost as if he had read John's thoughts. "I'm not kissing you again until you've used a mouthwash," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the shower, shedding clothes on route.

John took that as an invitation, shucking his clothes and following Rodney into the surprisingly spacious bathroom. He paused on the threshold as he caught sight of Rodney's outline behind the colored mosaic of crystal that comprised a shower screen. Ambient light filtered through the mosaic, highlighting a curve or hollow as Rodney moved beneath the steaming water. Another few paces brought John to the edge of the screen and he took the final step beneath the hot spray, reaching out to caress the wet shoulders and back.

"Make yourself useful," Rodney commanded, handing him a washcloth and a bottle of liquid soap while he set to washing the gunk out of his hair.

John grinned and, having lathered up the cloth, he eased it across the broad back, removing the last of the sticky residue from Rodney's flesh. He worked his way downwards, his erection hardening as he rubbed the washcloth over the pale ass cheeks before dipping into the crease. Obligingly, Rodney spread his legs apart, giving John full access, showing no trace of embarrassment as John slid the cloth along first one inner thigh and then the other. He knelt down, the washcloth gliding down each leg. When he looked up, he saw Rodney leaning forward beneath the spray, hands pressed to the shower wall and with his head bent between his outstretched arms.

John dropped the washcloth to the side and wrapped his arms around the strong body, hands pressed to the front of Rodney's thighs as John leaned in to lick the small of Rodney's back. Strong swipes of his tongue followed the path downwards as John drew back his hands to clasp the soft mounds of each ass cheek, his thumbs drawing them apart to expose the hidden treasure lying between.

He rimmed the strong muscle, tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh, feeling it quiver beneath the onslaught while enjoying the soft moans of pleasure falling from Rodney's lips. He wanted nothing more than to slick up his cock and impale Rodney with it, sending them both rocketing towards the stars. John stood up slowly, planting kisses along the length of Rodney's spine until he could nuzzle at the juncture of neck and shoulders. Reaching for the liquid soap, he squirted a good measure on his fingers and eased them into the tight channel, one at a time, slowly working the muscle until Rodney was ready for him. No murmur of dissent followed his actions, only a soft litany of broken words describing how good it felt, urging him onwards as he positioned the head of his cock against the loosened hole and pressed in, groaning out his satisfaction as tight muscles clenched around him.

Rodney's breath hitched as he was breached, and John waited for him to breathe again before easing forward only stopping once he was fully sheathed. Bracing his body with one hand upon Rodney's hip, the other hand snaked around to grasp Rodney's softened erection, stroking it back to full life.

"You okay?" he asked softly, not wanting to hurt his lover.

"Yes...just been a long time since I've..." John knew he would have waved a hand to finish off the sentence for him but then they'd both end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"Then we'll take it slow."

"Not too slow," Rodney demanded quickly.

John laughed gently and pulled out a few inches before pressing back in one firm stroke. His fingers mirrored the action on Rodney's hard flesh.

"Oh, that's good," he heard and repeated the motion, gradually picking up speed as his body raced towards completion. Rodney began to rock backwards in counterpoint to his thrusts, deepening his possession, ever more frantic with each stroke until he cried out hoarsely, his hot semen coating John's hand and internal muscles clenching hard around John. Two more thrusts and John was there too, ejaculating deep inside the body of the man he loved beyond life.

Withdrawing carefully, he lowered them both to the floor of the shower before either of them fell, letting the warm spray sluice away their spent passion before silently commanding the shower off. John held Rodney for several long minutes, arms wrapped around him, his chest pressed against Rodney's back, all the while kissing and nuzzling the nape of Rodney's neck.

Eventually, he pulled away, climbing slowly to his feet and offering Rodney a hand up. Warm air currents filled the shower area, drying their skin and hair. Afterwards, they staggered back into the main room and collapsed upon the bed, wrapped in each other's arms, fully sated. A soft smile curved up both corners of Rodney's mouth and John leaned in to kiss the firm lips, this time tasting only soap.

"Hmm...that's better," he sighed and kissed Rodney again, reveling in the bruising strength of another man as Rodney kissed him back.

Eventually, the kisses became light caresses of lips as Rodney slipped into a deep and restful sleep, arms still wrapped around John for the security and comfort he offered.

As he listened to the soft, even breaths, feeling the warmth of each one upon his chest, John dwelt on all the time he had wasted when he could have had this man in his arms. Inevitably, those thoughts turned to the creature that first made him aware of his feelings for Rodney, mocking him for the desire he had hidden even from himself.

With each new piece of data they received, he realized how different the wraith were from humanity. They had the same number of limbs and the same configuration of form but, in all other ways they were as dissimilar to humans as the Nox or the Asgard; perhaps more so. He knew Beckett had a theory that they had evolved from something akin to the wraith bug that had attacked him, perhaps seeing the world through vastly different senses.

After all, Steve had recognized that hidden desire from the first time John stood in proximity to Rodney within the confines of the holding cell. Whether he had scented it on him or tasted it in the air from pheromones released was anyone's guess. Certainly that was an avenue for Beckett to explore, perhaps finding some sort of 'wraith' repellent that was far less aggressive than the one he had created for the Hoffans.

John snorted at the possibility of using bug spray to solve their problems with the wraith but stilled when he felt Rodney murmur against his neck, not wanting to wake him. Beckett said Rodney needed a little extra rest before he charged back into the melee that formed the life and death struggle of Atlantis.

The wraith were coming and nothing stood in their path except a long disused weapon on the edge of the solar system, circulating the inhospitable world where Gall and Abrams met their untimely deaths. Even if they could power it up, it had not stopped the wraith before so no one could guarantee it would stop the wraith this time.

All any of them could do was follow Teyla's advice and fight to the last breath in their bodies, taking each day as it came and living it to the full. But he already knew this. As a soldier, he had lived under the shadow of death for most of his adult life, which made his decision to avoid a relationship with Rodney all the more pitiful.

No longer though, and with Rodney in his arms and in his bed, John knew his love would be enough to see him through the terrible times ahead. And should he die in the coming battle then at least he could say that he had lived without that one monumental regret hanging over him.

When Rodney murmured again, John pressed a kiss against the top of Rodney's forehead, tasting the clean skin with its underlining scent that was pure Rodney. He smiled wryly, knowing he could agree with the Steve on one subject; this Atlantean was one delicacy he would never grow tired of tasting.

THE END


End file.
